Finding Home
by GinnyBrandon93
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over, but war always brings consequences for those involved. Ginny Weasley will have to fight another battle in order to save everything she holds dear from the aftermath of such traumatic experience, and to help her one, true, fragile love come back to her.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

This year in Hogwarts has been the absolute worst, worse even than my first, which is saying quite a lot about what's been going on at school. Even right now, after I've been at Auntie Muriel's for a couple of weeks, I can't shake off that sense of foreboding and continuous fear I always felt at school, and I'm still weary. but Snape and the Carrows and the tortures were not the worse part of that.

After Bill's wedding, I have not seen Harry, nor heard from him, Hermione or Ron, and the tension and fear for their destiny are driving me mad, literally.

i dream about him every single night, but those rarely are pleasant dreams, and I always end up sitting bolt upright in bed, panting as if I've just been running a marathon, and trying to get the image of his lifeless body lying on some unknown forest floor out of my head.

it's early May, and the night is warm and breezy, but something in the back of my head keeps nagging at me; it's almost like a small part of me knows something is going to happen soon. Right after dinner, while I'm doing the dishes and everyone is discussing the next moves they're trying to try in order to get out of Hogwarts all the kids they can, I suddenly feel my fake Galleon from DA going scalding hot in my jeans' pocket, and I realize, with a jolt of my stomach, that maybe this is it. once I'm done with all the pudding forks, I finally get to look at the coin. Neville has been quite brief, but the message is surprisingly clear.

They're here, we're fighting. DL coming at H.

I gat to the mantelpiece in no time, and before Mum can start ranting about it, Fred, George and I are getting out of Aberforth fireplace in Hogsmeade, and heading down the secret passage that leads to the Room of Requirement.

When I get out of it, I catch a quick glance of Ron, looking even taller and swankier than usual, and of Hermione, standing by his side, looking concerned and thinner than I've ever seen her, but then my eyes catch sight of him and I know there's no one else I want to look at tonight. Or ever, for that matter.

Harry is standing there, looking thin and hungry, but he's never been more handsome to me. We catch each other's eyes, and I can see a battle raging in his gaze, and I know exactly what's going on in his head. He's happy to see me, but not about the time or the location of the encounter; I suddenly realize that it is probably going to be a fight a lot harder than I would have expected.

That is why I put my foot down when they all try to convince me to go home, seen and consider that I'm still underage. but when I say that I couldn't bear to wait without knowing what's going on, I see comprehension flicker on his face, and he becomes a lot less eager to convince me to go, even though he's adamant when he says he wants and needs to know that I'm safe.

It's after the truce has been called, after I've already spent at least an hour fighting, and I've seen things I would rather forget, that I realize what he's meant all along. i am still in denial, I still cannot accept the fact that my brother, my brilliant, funny, smart brother Fred is lying in the Great Hall, dead, when something cold and extremely painful goes through my chest, and I cannot understand what is happening,because another truce has been called and Voldemort's troops have momentarily retreated, as he is waiting for Harry to give himself over.

i've just brought a little girl I've found wounded in the grounds to Madam Pomfrey, when the pain hits, sharp and icy, and my mother, who has seen me stagger with the force of it, coaxes me into a chair. She is distraught, but I can see the determination in her eyes. she won't let anyone else of us get hurt tonight.

And then, as I'm trying to catch my breath, and to convince mum that I need to get back to work, that I can't stop and allow myself to think about what's happened and could still happen, a cold, icy voice fills the Hall, reverberating in my head and making me shiver in disgust.

Voldemort's voice, once more magically amplified, fills the grounds and the castle alike.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone…"

the voice goes on, but I do not understand one more word, not as my brain tries to wrap itself around the meaning of what I've just heard. It can't be true, I simply cannot believe it. Not that he was trying to run, and especially not that he is dead. I couldn't cope with that, I know I couldn't.

I find myself on the stone steps that lead to the grounds without even realizing I'd left the Great Hall in the first place, and when I see the crowd of Death Eaters, led by Voldemort, advance towards the castle, fear ripples through my body like it never has.

Then I see Hagrid, carrying a body which lies limply in his arms, and my heart shatters. i find myself screaming his name, desperate for an answer, knowing that he cannot not answer to me when he hears such hopeless longing in my voice… But Harry's body stays limp, his head lolling slightly from side to side and his arm dangling from his shoulder, and life has no significance anymore, a gaping hole in the place where my heart has been until now.

when the fighting rekindles in the Great Hall, I only want to take out as many Death Eaters as I can, overwhelming grief spurring me to revenge. I start dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, and Luna and Hermione join in, trying to help me bring her down. when my mum takes over, I watch the duel, almost without feeling… my fear has gone with my heart, and I feel so empty and shattered… But then, when Bellatrix falls, hit by mum's curse, I clearly hear Harry's voice scream a Shield Charm, and in a few more minutes relief truly washes over me. It's over, Voldemort's dead, hit by his own rebounding curse, and Harry has incredibly made it through.

Hours pass before he approaches me, and I realize he must have slept at least a little bit, seen how he bears pillow signs on his cheek, on top of all the grime and blood from the battle. I'm still sitting at Gryffindor table, beside my parents, while George and Bill are tending to Fred's body.

I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it, even though he seems to be incapable of holding my gaze. he lowers his head, and I can see his shoulders tense once more.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny…" he whispers, and makes to stand up. I squeeze his hand, gently, and stand with him. He looks surprised for a moment, but then pulls me gently toward the Entrance Hall, and I follow suit.


	2. The Morning After

Harry leads me out of the Great Hall, his shoulders rigid and his body tense, as if preparing to fight. I do not know what to think; surely I'd never expected him to look so guarded in front of me, not after last year.

I am hopeful still, as he is still holding my hand, and when he leads me out in the grounds and towards the lake, I allow myself to breathe. He just wants to talk away from all the people gathered in there, away from all those prying eyes.

The lake shines in the early morning sun, and the grass around it bears no sign of last night's events. He plops down on the grass, wearily running a hand through his hair, and pulls me down at his side.

"I owe you an explanation" he states, but he does not make eye contact. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me out. "It's my fault, Ginny, there's no denying it. I left you behind, I wanted you to be safe, and I did all wrong, you never were… And last night I messed everything up again, I let…" he shudders and stops, his hands tugging at his hair once again. "I let all those people stand between Voldemort and me, I let them die…" he whispers, and he sounds so broken that my heart aches.

I put my hand on his shoulder, slowly and delicately, but he gives a start anyway. He is so tense, I can't understand how his nerves are putting up with this amount of stress in the first place.

"Harry" my voice is soft, and I can't even start to put into words how I feel being able to pronounce his name after all these months.

He doesn't seem to have heard me, as he speaks again, a slightly more panicked tone to his voice.

"Tom said some true things last night… I shouldn't have let anyone lay down their lives for me, it's my own fault if…"

I know where he's headed, and I can't let him do that. Not again, and not when he needs comfort and peace so much.

"No", I say, loud and clear, and even though my eyes fill with tears at the thought of the people we've lost, friends and family, my voice stays firm and does not break. "No, Harry, that's what he thought was true, but it isn't. Fred was not fighting in order to protect you, he knew you are perfectly capable of looking after yourself… He was fighting for his ideal, he was fighting because he believed that a world without Death Eaters would be a better place… Remus and Tonks… They went into the field for Teddy, not for you. They wanted their son to grow up in a peaceful world, not in the place of hatred it had become… They would have fought anyway, they had started fighting years ago, before you were born even… It wasn't your own personal war to fight, it was something bigger…" he is looking at me with wide, fearful eyes, as if he does not allow himself to believe what I've just said is true.

"You're… Aren't you angry with me?" he asks, and his voice is so uncertain I have to guess.

"I was" I answer, truthfully, and I see his shoulders slump. "But when I saw Hagrid carrying you out of the Forest, my perspective changed completely…" It's my turn to shudder, as the scene plays once more in my head. "I was angry at you for trying to protect me, for treating me like I am something that could break so easily…" He looks up, and I can see a new look is mingled with sadness in his eyes. It's the same look he had when he's come back to me after Dumbledore's death, and I can't help raising my hand and touching his face; he leans into my palm and closes his eyes. "But now I do understand, I really do. I can't pretend I liked it, but I get why you tried to protect me so fiercely", I whisper, and when he opens his eyes and looks at me, really looks at me for the first time in what feels like forever, I can see only love and heartbreak.

"I don't deserve you" he mutters, and I can feel him tremble under my fingers. "Ginny, there are things… Things I need to tell you… But I'm scared" he admits, his breath becoming quicker and shallower. "You won't want to have anything to do with me if I do tell… But I need you…" He's positively blubbering by now, and it scares me. I've never seen him so vulnerable before, and I give up to instinct. I wrap my arms around him, leaning my back on the tree behind us, and bring his head gently in the crook of my neck, his body tucked into my side, one hand in his hair and the other on his belly.

"Shhh" I coo, trying to reassure him. "I'm not going anywhere, not unless you want me to leave", I whisper on his hair, holding him, and I can feel him go limp in my embrace, sagging against me. His arms sneak around my waist, holding me, and I breathe out in relief, the feeling so exquisite I could cry.

After some time, Harry releases me, and sits up.

"I missed you so much" he whispers, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my hear, and I can't hold in my feelings any longer. Tears stream down my face, but when he cups my cheek and brings my lips to his, it's bliss like I've never felt before, better even than on his seventeenth birthday, and even though none of us is okay, we are more than all right and in this moment it's everything I need.

"I missed you, too" I murmur on his lips, and his kiss is searing, full of need and longing, and as I respond in kind I lose track of time and everything else.

The sun is definitely higher in the sky when he breaks the kiss, gently tugging me up to stand with him, and tugs me under his arm, still protective. "I will explain everything, Ginny… I need to tell you about these months, but…" he trails off, suddenly tense and trembling again, and I stand on my toes to kiss his cheek. "We have time, Harry. When you'll be ready, I'll be here to listen", I promise, and we've just started moving back towards the castle when we spot Ron, running towards us like a madman, Hermione in tow.

They reach us, panting, and Ron grimaces at the sight of Harry's arm around me, but does not comment.

"There you are, Mum's going ballistic, she wants us all to head back to The Burrow, and she's in fits because she couldn't see you anywhere…" his voice trails off as Harry takes his arm from my shoulder as if he's burnt himself. I gently take his hand, and when I can feel his fingers squeeze mine gently, telling me it's alright, I lead him back to my family.


	3. A family, part I

Mum is waiting for us in the Entrance Hall, and she instantly grabs my arm when Harry and I step in.

"Where have you been, Ginny? I was worried…" her voice breaks, and I hear her sniff quietly. Harry has let my hand go, and I notice he's suddenly extremely interested in his shoelaces.

"Harry…" Mum starts saying, but he speaks first.

"It was my own fault, Mrs. Weasley", he says with a flat voice. I see how rigid he is, how emotionless his face has become, and I would like to say something, but Mum has already crushed him in one of her bone-breaking hugs.

"Don't be silly, dear" Mum says. "It was nobody's fault but Voldemort's. I could never blame you for any of what's happened…" she smiles fondly at him, and I can see a spark of her old self when she goes on, menacing him: "But I swear I will personally see to you, Harry James Potter, if you ever try and pull another stunt like last night's on me. For a moment there, I've thought I'd lost another son. You're coming home with us, so that I can be sure you start to eat properly again, God knows what you three have lived on for all these past months!" she pats his back and lets him go, and we all smile tentatively before Bill, Dad, George and Percy are coming out of one of the empty classrooms on the other side, bearing a coffin, and suddenly I don't know how to breathe anymore. It's only when I feel Harry's arms around me and his hoarse whisper in my ear, that I understand that I am the one producing that strange staccato rhythm of strangled sobs.

"Ginny, please, breathe…" he murmurs once again, and I bury my face in his chest, letting the sobs rack through me. "Fred…" I don't know how much time passes, but I hear my Mum's voice, telling us all to go amidst sobs, and I can feel that strange oppressive sensation as Harry Apparates us both back to The Burrow.

I can't move, I can't breathe properly and the only things that really keep me from fainting are Harry's arms holding me upright and his voice, murmuring things I don't really understand, but just the sound of his voice is enough…

When I come by, I am sitting on the garden bench Dad had taken under the porch just before Christmas and Harry and I are alone out here, with the chirping birds and the curious but strangely sombre garden gnomes.

"I'm sorry" I say, wiping the tears off my cheeks, "I don't know what happened… I'm not one much for crying…" He pulls on side of his mouth up, in a strange sort of half-hearted, lopsided smile, and holds me a little tighter against his side.

"It's all right, Ginny, you don't have to… I don't want you to hold back because of me. Fred was your brother, you need to grieve…" he inhales shakily, and as I raise my head and look at his face, I can see he's been crying with me all along. He catches my gaze with his, and a warmth I haven't seen there for a long, long time lights up in his green eyes. "I'm here with you", he whispers, and it sounds reassuring and sweet, but I can tell it is more of a promise than anything else, both to me and to himself, and he brings his lips so near to mine I can feel how warm they are without actually touching them. I understand exactly what he's doing, asking me for permission, gauging my reaction and giving up to me the decision whether to kiss him or not, and I can't hold back; even though I'm in pieces, we both are, and I don't know how long it will take to put them back together, I know that something is already back where it used to be, where that belongs, and that is the part of my heart where he has always been.

We both jump a mile when someone clear their throat behind us, and there are Mum and Dad standing in the back door, smiling knowingly at the pair of us. I can feel a blush spread on my cheeks, and Harry's looking at them wide eyed and with his mouth gaping open, desperately looking for something to say, when they turn their backs on us and go back inside, telling us to get back in the kitchen as soon as we can.

Lunch is waiting on the table when we get in, and I can see how Mum, Fleur and Hermione all have had the same impulse: they have cooked enough for the sustenance of a small African country, even though they themselves eat almost nothing, and the only ones who really delve into their food are Ron and Bill. As Mum, Dad and George start planning quietly for Fred's funeral, Harry is sitting beside me, silent and almost absent, and I notice how oddly he behaves: he does not ladle his plate with food, nor does he eat his normal amount of it, but starts grimacing and holding his stomach, as if he's sick. He has again that expressionless mask on his face, and when Dad tells us all to go in our rooms and take a nap, I know something's up. Harry is gone from the kitchen the very moment Dad finishes uttering those words; Ron and Hermione are staying behind, on the living room couch, because they clearly don't want to be apart so soon, and so as soon as I've done the dishes I follow Harry up to the attic he's sharing with Ron as usual.

I knock on the door, but I get no answer, and when I open it Harry is on his camp bed, curled up into a ball, facing the wall away from the door. His eyes are open, but I am sure he does not see the faded poster, nor the wallpaper hanging a few inches from his nose. He is trembling, and muttering something like "No, please, leave them alone" under his breath, his hands clenched so tight on the hem of his sweatshirt I can make out the exact shape of every bone in his white knuckles.

"Harry?" I whisper, tentatively, because he clearly isn't here in his mind, and I'm scared to make him even more terrified than he is right now. He does not acknowledge me, but he does turn my way, however briefly. I paddle softly across the room, and I kneel on the floor beside his bed before I talk to him again. "Harry, you're safe… It's all over, we're home…" I repeat that like a mantra, and gingerly place my hand on his shoulder. He tenses up, but does not shake it away, and I start to rub his back in little circles, slowly, whispering soothingly the whole time. After two or three minutes he stops muttering, and exhales shakily a huge breath I didn't even know he was holding. I feel him relax under my touch, even though he's still shaking, and I throw caution to the winds, lying down behind him on the narrow cot and spooning him, my left arm around his torso and my right hand winding its way into his messy hair when he sags in my arms and rests his head in the crook of my neck.

His clothes are dripping with sweat, and he's all clammy and much too warm, but for now I only want him to stop trembling so much. I run my fingers soothingly on his scalp, and I almost cry in relief when he takes my left hand in his, leaving them to rest on his belly, and whispers my name with such hope and fear intermingled in it I understand how he does not believe this is reality.

"Shhh, we're home…" I whisper, trying to soothe him.

"Ginny…" his voice is so desperate, my name sounds more like a plead than anything else. His hand is holding mine so tight I can feel the tips of my fingers go numb, but I don't care. Not when he is clearly hurting so much. "Please…" he is once more so agitated I can't even make out his words, but I think I got something like Killing Curse and it makes my hair stand on end.

"I'm right here, Harry… Shhh…" I squeeze him gently, and hold him against me, and I don't even know why but I start humming softly a melody it takes me a moment to recognize: it's _Weasley's Our King_ , and I don't even know how it came to my mind in a moment like this, but it's from a happy time of our lives and it does the trick. It pulls him back from the dark place he's been in, and he turns to face me, the small cot barely enough to allow him that movement.

His eyes look huge in his pale face, and I can tell he is shaken by what's just happened, but he gently caresses my face, from the temple to the chin, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear and leaving his palm there to cup my cheek. "Thank you", he breathes out, and I know there's more coming.

"I came up… and suddenly I was back at Hogwarts, back in the battle,and I could do nothing but watch as he… He killed everyone of you, and I couldn't help it, I couldn't save you… And…" he shudders, his voice breaking, and I can see tears escape from his scrunched up eyes. "And you all came back as ghosts, and told me it was only my fault… Even Sirius and my parents… Remus… Thught I did not love them, that i had let them die to save myself… And dying, killing that last part of him had solved nothing, coming back meant only losing all of you…"

He is holding on to me as if I'm his lifeline, his head on my breast and his arms around my waist, his fingers gripping my shirt so tight they are almost ripping through it. Some part of my brain registers his words, and starts wondering about the meaning of his last sentence, but I know this is not the moment to ask for details and missing parts.

I kiss his temple, gently, rubbing his back soothingly. "It wasn't real… None blames you, Harry. None. You've done so much more than anyone would have, and… And you were ready to give yourself up for us… If that isn't love, I don't know what is…".

He does not find a counterargument to this, just raises his head and kisses me softly, and in a little while, I can feel his weight shift against me, his breath deeper and steadier. I stay there, and when Dad comes up to call us at five, I just settle Harry's head delicately over his pillow and follow my father downstairs, where my family is reunited, along with Kingsley, Tonks' mother, Hermione, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson. Katie Bell is standing in the corner, whispering quietly to George while he holds her with a quiet desperation that remembers me of what Harry and I have just shared.

We all agree upon burying Fred here in the village cemetery, in the little chapel that holds Mum's brothers, who were killed in the previous war. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron and George are all to be pallbearers, and there's a moment of uncertainty when Mum and Dad tell me that, being a witch, I am not supposed to be the sixth. I know that, if I really did wish to do that, they would let me, but I know that Fred wouldn't care, and would joke about me being too short to carry something heavy with Bill, who is so much taller than I am, that he would tell me to go and stand by Harry, and I take a decision.

"Mum, Dad, don't worry so much. It's alright, I…" as Mum gives me a tremulous smile, and something which looks a lot like pride flashes on Dad's face, I turn to Lee. "Lee, I think it should be you. You were his best friend…"

Once everything's settled, and Andromeda has made us all part of the arrangement for Remus and Tonks, who are to be buried together in Godric's Hollow the day after Fred's funeral, Hermione, Fleur and my mum take me in the kitchen, and start asking me questions about Harry.

I answer as truthfully as I can, admitting straight away that we are trying to come back to each other after the year we've spent apart, but before I can even broach the topic of what's happened this afternoon, my Dad enters the kitchen, his face as pale as a ghost's.

"Ginny… I need you to come up. Harry is sick and we can't wake him".


	4. The Wall Collapses

I run up the stairs, and when I set foot in Harry's room my heart misses a beat. Harry is lying in his bed, his eyes closed but frantically moving under his eyelids, a puddle of vomit on the floor beside him. Dad has joined me, and waves his wand, Evanescing sick with a practiced motion.

"NOOOOO!"

Harry's scream is so loud and unexpected I jump a mile. Dad is concerned, and swiftly explains me that Harry has been vomiting and screaming for several minutes now, and that even though Bill and he have tried to wake him up, they've been unable to get near him, as he lashes out in his sleep.

I don't know what to do, but I can't leave him in this state of misery.

I start chanting his name over and over, like a mantra, but I don't approach his bed yet. I don't know what has triggered this episode, but I'm far more worried about him being unresponsive than about the vomiting. I know all too well that someone who's gone through all the stress, the physical and the emotional strain Harry has gone through can vomit, it's a way for the body to tell that it's too much. I have seen it happen at school this year, and even though it's not pretty it can be dealt with.

When something which looks like an eternity to me has passed, Harry turns his head towards me, and his eyes shot open, still unfocused. He grabs his wand from the nightstand and points it straight at me. I stay there, frozen, and suddenly he lowers his wand, throws it on the bed and lies back down, burying his face in the pillow and muttering an apology with a sad, broken little voice.

Dad is still as a statue, his eyes wide as saucers, but I stride across the room and reach out to Harry. I hear the door close, but I don't look at it.

As soon as I touch his shoulder, Harry tenses up, as if expecting a blow. His t-shirt is drenched in sweat, and I can feel his heart pulsing at a wild rate. "Hey… It's all right…" I whisper, trying to soothe him. He turns to face me, and he wears a broken expression. "I could have hurt you…" he says, his eyes trained on the edge of the quilt. "You haven't." I shot back, hating that he has to do this to himself. He's hurting, he's sick, and all he worries about is the slight chance of something happening to me. "You're not well, Harry." He tries to protest, but I shush him. "Do you still feel nauseous?" I ask, moving my palm to his forehead. He's warm, but I don't think he has a fever, which is good. He nods, and then it's a river of words. "Ginny, I know you've told me you all think this is not my fault, but I do feel guilty… and every single time I go to sleep, they… They all come and remind me of what I could have done differently, of how I could have changed things… And today… I've pointed my wand at you, I could have hurt you so easily… I don't deserve to be here… i still have to understand why is it that everyone I love or care about gets hurt… But I think it's me… I'm wrong and Dumbledore should have left me at the Dursley's… That was my place and that was how I truly deserve to be treated…" a sob escapes him, strangled but still wracking his body so much that the whole bed trembles.

My heart breaks, he's been through so much and he still thinks he doesn't deserve to be loved and cherished and comforted… I suddenly am so full of anger towards his bloody relatives I feel I'd kick them into next century if I ever were to meet them.

I sit on the edge on his bed and gather him in my arms, holding him tight and leaving a soft kiss on his hair. He holds on to me desperately, still trembling, end even though I'd already opened my mouth to tell him that his place is here, with me, with my family, I close it again. I know that words won't be enough, that he has to see for himself that we consider him family, that I love him more than life itself, that his guilt has no reason to be there in the first place.

We stay like that for a few minutes, and he's been relaxing against me, when I feel him tense up again, his stomach rolling so much I can feel it against mine. He backs away from me, and I conjure up a basin just in time for him to retch. It's more dry-heaving than vomiting by now, and I stay with him even though he tries to make me leave, hoarsely telling me to go between heaves and coughs.

"I'm not leaving you" I whisper, running my hand in slow, calming circles on his back. "You're exhausted, you're sick, and I'm not going to leave you up here on your own to wallow in misery and guilt. No more secrets, no more hiding, and no more being alone when you're unwell." He looks at me, trying to regain his breath after his last spell of sickness, and I can see wonder in his eyes. It's just as if he can't believe I want him, and it makes me ache for him all the more. I move, sitting with my legs on his bed and my back against the headboard, and he lies down gingerly at my side, putting his head in my lap, silently asking for comfort. I can see he's given up acting in front of me, and I know that he won't pretend anymore, that he's given up trying to convince me that he's all right. I run my fingers through his hair, slowly, trying to make him understand that this is what I need too, that I want and need to be there for him, when he whispers something that makes my blood freeze in my veins.

"This is the first time someone takes care of me when I'm sick…" his voice is hoarse, and his hands are trembling slightly on my hips. I've always known the Dursleys were bad, but I didn't think they would go to this extent. Apparently, his childhood was even worse than he's ever let on. I keep on massaging his scalp, and he resumes talking, just as I knew he would.

"My Aunt and Uncle used to lock me up in my cupboard with a basin when I was a little boy and I'd caught some bug at school or something… They'd check on me once or twice a day, when they remembered to, but they never called a doctor or anything… I would just have to be on my own and wait until I'd feel better… I used to cry at first, but my Uncle came in and beat me and after that I just went to curl up in bed and try to sleep it away…" he stops, suddenly, tensing, and when he turns to look at me, a scared expression on his face and a tear running down his cheek, I realize he's expecting me to run from him, and my heart swells so much I can't take it in anymore.

I put my hand on his cheek, running my thumb under his eye to wipe away the tears that have started falling. He closes his eyes, and exhales, slowly, shuddering, his breath hitching in his throat. "You can go, Ginny, I don't deserve any of this, I just…"

"Harry, look at me." I whisper, softly, my voice full of a tenderness I'd never shown before. "I am here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you. What those two did to you was evil and twisted, and you didn't deserve any of it. Not from your relatives, not from Voldemort, not from the world. You're done now, you've already given up so much for everyone, and all you will have from now on will be peace, and happiness, and a bit of that tranquility you've always missed." He grasps my hand, holding it between his, and looks at me with such a longing in his eyes it makes me want to cry.

"I've never said those words before" he confesses with a little, strained voice. "I've never had anyone I could tell…" He sits up at my side, averting his eyes from me, and I'm going to tell him it's all right if he doesn't say it back, when he whispers that he loves me too, blushing fiercely, looking sideways at me as if he expects to be scolded. I can't help the smile that forms on my face, nor the two or three tears that leave my eyes, and the next thing I know is that he's kissing me, gentle but desperate, and I never want to let go of him.


	5. The first story

When we break the kiss, Harry leans his forehead against mine, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers. "Thank you" he whispers, and I don't have the chance to answer him, because he starts talking at unbelievable speed.

"I need to tell you something, something which will make you change the way you look at me… I've done… There were… things…" he inhales sharply, and I whisper "Harry…" but he cuts me off again. " I had to die because I had a part of him inside me… I've gone on all these years, keeping him alive and not knowing, because a part of his soul had latched onto mine, because no one had ever told me what had really happened the night he killed my parents, and I found it out in the middle of the battle, and…" his voice is barely a whisper now, hoarse and shaking, but I catch his words and the desperation in them. "And even me dying wouldn't stop him, not for sure, and I was so scared… That all the searching and the fighting would have been for nothing, that despite everything we'd tried I couldn't stop him… that all those people's sacrifice would have been for nothing…" a sob escapes him, so harsh it makes his whole body shudder, and everything clicks into place for me.

That's what Voldemort meant at the end, when he'd said that he had performed magic Dumbledore himself had never dreamt of, that's what Horcruxes are, and that's what Harry, Ron and Hermione were looking for all those months while they were on the run. And now that I've got that piece of information, now that I really understand the magnitude of what he's done, I am falling in love with him all over again, because no one but Harry could be this selfless, this brave and this humble, and no one else could make my heart swell with this kind of love, ever. His hand is still holding mine, but he's trembling so much, trying to stifle his sobs, that my whole arm shakes with the force of that.

"Harry…" my own voice is hoarse by now, but I don't let myself cry. There are things he needs to know, he needs to hear, and I want to be strong, to be able to stand by him, because he deserves nothing less. "How could this make me want to stay away from you?" I place my free hand on his cheek, stroking him softly and coaxing him gently to turn towards me until his wide, fearful eyes meet mine. I can see that this is the last thing he expected to hear, and he stubbornly turns away from me. "Ginny, I was carrying a part of _Voldemort_ inside me. It's seen everything, heard everything, how can I know whether or not some of the things I've done were somehow orchestrated by that? How can I be sure that if I had known, if I had given myself up earlier, at least a few of those lives could have been saved? What if somehow he was controlling me through that part of him and…?"

He's clearly stating to panic, his voice almost shrill by now, and I cut him off, taking his face in my hands and looking straight in his eyes.

"Harry, stop. You've never been possessed, and you've always been your own person. You've never, ever done anything evil, and I really can't see how something as twisted as Voldemort's soul could have ever allowed you to give yourself up like you did… It's always been you, and your heart has always been pure… Nothing evil has ever touched it. I see that every single time I look at you."

He's crying, quietly, and my hands are wet because of his tears, but I see a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, and it means the world to me. He hugs me, holding me tightly against him, and I feel how cold he is in his sweat-soaked clothes. I kiss his cheek, letting my lips linger against his skin for a moment, and then I whisper, "Let's get you out of these and into something clean and warm before you freeze to death…", putting my hands under his t-shirt.

He becomes rigid in a fraction of a second, his muscles locking into place and his hands flying to my wrists, holding me into place. I am at a loss, I didn't expect anything like this from him. I've already seen him without a t-shirt, playing Quidditch for the same team and sharing the same changing room, and I can't understand why he's reacting like this. I stay still, barely breathing, and I let a few seconds of silence go by.

"What's wrong?" I ask him softly, stroking him gently, the cotton of his t-shirt soft beneath my fingers. He inhales shakily, steeling himself, and then answers with a few, telegraphic words, refusing once more to meet my eyes. "Scars. Many. They're not pretty… I don't want…"

My eyes brim with tears, but I don't let them go. I extricate my wrists from his grasp, and I gently settle my hands on his shoulders, silently asking him to look at me, and he finally lifts his eyes.

"Whatever they are, however they are, they won't change a thing, Harry. I love you, and those scars won't make me change my mind about you. They're only scars, and some of them will fade, some maybe won't, but whenever you will feel ready and you'll show me, all I'll be able to see is _you_." I kiss his lips, gently, and he returns the kiss, cupping my cheek and holding me close as if he's afraid I'll disappear. "I love you, too" he whispers on my lips, his actions getting more and more desperate. When I pull back, I go to the chest of drawers in the corner, and rummaging a bit I find an old, soft, long-sleeved Gryffindor Quidditch jersey which was Charlie's and a pair of Harry's pajama bottoms, and I bring them to him, turning my back on him as soon as he's taken them from my hands, silently offering him the privacy he needs to change.

That's when I realize the door's been opened again, and that Mum is standing on the stairs beyond it, watching us with tear-filled eyes. I open my mouth, ready to say something, when she silently shushes me. "I had come to check on him and to call you for dinner" she says, almost soundlessly. I almost turn towards him, my heart sinking at the thought of leaving him after what has just happened, but she stops me. "Stay with him. I'll bring up something for both of you later", she mouths, and the door silently closes itself, while Mum resumes her way down the stairs.


	6. Pillow Talk

When I open my eyes, everything is dark around me, and all I can make out in the blackness is the little light coming in from the window. The rain is pouring outside, and it takes me a few seconds to remember where exactly I am, that I am not at Hogwarts and that things have changed so much in the last few days.

I turn on the narrow mattress and I see the dark shadow which is Harry, curled up in a ball at my side. We've fallen asleep together after our conversation earlier, and I realize that, strangely, Mum hasn't come up again to check on us or to try and have us eat something.

Harry is sleeping for now, but I can tell he's not at peace; his face is contracted as if in pain and as I look at him, tears start leaking from his closed eyelids. It is only now that I realize that he's been mumbling in his sleep for a while, and that's what has woken me up in the first place. Taking my wand from the bedside table where I'd tossed it, I whisper "Lumos", and a ray of light erupts from its tip, allowing me to see the tray with sandwiches and a pitcher, which is waiting for us on the desk in the opposite corner of the room, so I glance at my old watch; it's a little past one in the morning. I don't want him to wake up in the dark and panic because of the nightmare.

As soon as I speak his eyes shot open, and Harry frantically looks around, trying to understand what is going on.

"Harry, it's alright" I whisper, and he looks at me, his hands shaking and his shoulders tense.

"Ginny… You need to go…" he gets up from the bed, placing himself between me and the door. "If they see you here…" Harry's voice breaks, and I'm at a loss, my heart shattering in a million pieces when I realize that, even in his nightmare, he tries to keep me safe, to shield me from harm.

I take his face in my hands, gently, and he raises his wide, terrified eyes on me.

"We're at the Burrow, Harry, no one is going to hurt us… Voldemort is dead, it's over… We're safe, I'm not going anywhere…"

At first, I think he's going to fight me, try to convince me I'm wrong, but then he closes his eyes for a moment and when he reopens them, I see I've got through to him and he's really awake now.

His eyes focus on the floor immediately, and his shoulders slump, his whole body closing up, as if waiting for a physical blow. "I'm sorry", he whispers, and I tell him it's nothing, kissing his cheek and offering him my hand, palm up.

Harry takes it at once, his fingers still trembling from all the tension and the adrenaline of the nightmare, and I pull him to sit with me on his bed.

"You had a nightmare", I murmur, and it is a plain affirmation, not a question. He nods, still not looking at me, and I just squeeze his hand. I don't want to push him, not when he's this shaken and fragile, but he needs to know I'm willing to listen if he feels like talking about it.

He inhales, shakily, and I already think he's going to ask me to go back to sleep when he starts talking, quietly, holding onto my hand as if he's afraid I'm going to disappear.

"Right after Christmas, we understood that we could not pronounce Voldemort's name without it breaking all our protective spells… We tried to be careful about it, we knew that there were Snatchers around and… well, we were on the run, we couldn't risk being caught… One evening we were talking really animatedly, Ron and Hermione tried to stop me, but I pronounced it anyway… At once we heard noises of Apparition, they'd become really quick to detect the infractions… Hermione hit me with a Stinging hex, tried to render me unrecognizable, but still… The Snatchers put two and two together pretty quickly, Fenrir Greenback was with them and…" He pauses for a moment, and I am sure, at once, that this is something which truly happened, not just the recount of a horrific nightmare. "One of them found the sword of Gryffindor in our tent, and it all went downhill from that point. They brought us to Malfoy Manor, and there were… The Malfoys, but also… Bellatrix Lestrange, an when she saw the sword she got completely out of control,she was convinced we'd been in her fault at Gringott's… She had Ron and me thrown in the dungeon, with Luna and Mr. Ollivander, and kept Hermione in the hall, for interrogation… She tortured her… Dobby rescued us from that dungeon, he got all of us out of there… But he got killed when we escaped… When I saw you down there, Ginny, I was… It was my worst fear come true…" He shudders, violently, and I hug him, trying to tell him all things words couldn't express right now. I'm too horrified right now to be able to talk, too shocked at hearing, first hand, that those rumors running around school last spring were true.

He hugs me back, sneaking his arms around my waist and holding me tight against him, and I follow the line of his shoulders with my hands, up and down, slowly and soothingly, following a path that, a lifetime ago in the grounds of Hogwarts, was familiar and soothing for both of us.

I can feel a thick scar under my fingers, a scar that wasn't there a year ago, right around his neck, almost hidden by his t-shirt, but I bit my question back. Now isn't the time.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispers against my neck, surprising me. I nod, kissing his cheek again, and I murmur "Sure" on his skin. I think I know where this is going, but I know I can't hide from him, not if I want us to heal together.

He lets go of me, taking my hand and looking straight at my face for the first time since I've woken him. His voice is strained when he speaks. "The night we came to Hogwarts, Neville told me the Carrows had been… Torturing students, beating them… I can't help but…" I see he doesn't know how to ask me if I were among those who had to go through that, and I really hate that he is going to know, but I don't want to hide from him, so I squeeze his hand gently, stopping his verbal fumbling.

"I'm a Weasley, Harry… Of course they gave me detentions" I whisper. His eyes darken, and his expression becomes tortured. "It was my…" he starts, but I interrupt him, fiercely. "No, please, let me finish. They knew we'd dated, and I tried to act as if I was furious with you, as if… I didn't care anymore… But after two days at school I couldn't stand it, Harry, I simply couldn't… It was like Umbridge all over again, only a thousand times worse… And we couldn't just be there and not fight back… They never hurt me badly, just a few detentions, a bit of Cruciatus curse, but… I was among those who got lucky, Harry, really… Neville definitely got it a lot worse… Mum and dad pulled me out in time". As I try to tell him how bad Hogwarts was this year without making it seem like I'd got anything too harsh, I realize how lucky i really have been when compared to other girls I know.

"Thank God", he whispers, and pulls me into a hug again. "I was terrified something was going to happen to you, I tried to keep an eye on you with the Marauder's Map all the time when school was on… As soon as I found out Snape had become headmaster and that the Carrows were going to teach I…" he pauses, then snorts. "I've been such an idiot, haven't I? Thinking that Hogwarts would keep on being a safe place… Breaking up with you, trying to shield you from that kind of…"

"It wasn't your fault" I whisper, running my fingers through the unruly hair at the bak of his head. "You did everything you could, and even more… There was nothing wrong with what you've done, Harry, believe me. When you left, I knew perfectly well the reason why you did, what you were going to do. I had already told you, I understood, I was with you on it… And I've never hidden the fact that I despise the Dark Arts, that I'm not the kind of witch who would resort to that kind of magic… I wasn't fighting for you, or because of you… I was fighting with you, Harry, because the principles I was defending were the same you were defending… that makes all the difference, you know?"

He leans back, and looks at me with an expression of sheer fascination, bringing his hands up to enclose my face.

"I love you, Ginny" he whispers, his green eyes locking on mine, swirling with emotion and shiny with tears.

I smile, his words warming me up from the inside. "I love you, too", I answer, and he kisses me, his lips sweet and warm on mine, pulling me in his arms, making me feel precious and cherished and free for the first time in what feels like forever…


End file.
